Suddenly and Slowly
by Sarastro the Queen o the Night
Summary: When Magnus dies, there is much left behind, all of which must be dealt with in time. From rent to quarry to sailors to continent, Jane finds herself to be one of Gunther's only supporters, following him to unknown lands and establishing herself as one of the few constants in his life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, more or less, every other story has been written leading up to this. This is my epic piece for this show.

Set in the future by five years, making Gunther 19, Jane 17, and Magnus dead at 46.

I apologize in advance for the French and German, but Jane does not speak those languages, and whenever the characters are actually speaking French, it is in the situation that Jane does not understand and the conversations have no bearing on the plot.

* * *

Magnus Breech passed unexpectedly, leaving the world before his son had even been knighted. The youth, at nineteen, was obviously shaken, suddenly in possession of land and wealth, suddenly without the man that had influenced him so much. Excused from knight's training for the while, he spent his days at the large house he had lived in all his life, looking at it with new eyes and down at the docks and quarries and farms.

Gunther had always been rather solitary, but when Magnus was buried in the Graveyard of Innocents behind the church (and Jane had heard more than one villager snort at the irony), Gunther tossed his obligatory handful of dirt as the only living relative of Magnus Breech and fled the cemetery entirely, leaving the villagers to spit in the grave as they wished. Jane had come with her parents, and while her mother sighed about the unchristian actions of those Magnus had wronged in his life and her father covered her ears to spare her hearing the curses, Jane's eyes followed Gunther as he strode quickly away, hands in fists at his sides with bone white knuckles.

Once the priest managed to get everyone to stop and finished the mass, those of the castle headed back up, disquieted by the open disgust those of the village had for the dead man. "That, Jane, was a display of the worst of humanity," said her father. Silently, Jane agreed.

"Perhaps not the _worst_, but truly they could have conducted themselves with a little more respect," said her mother with a disapproving sniff.

"No one likes the Breech family," said Jane. "That is what Gunther has told me."

"I believe I heard that discussion, or at least part of it," said Milton, rubbing his chin. "I thought him a bit dramatic, really."

* * *

_The two squires had been set to guard the gate together, and standing on opposite sides of the large doorway, they got to talking. And somehow, they got to discussing live in the village. "I lived up here all my life," said Jane. "And I know that is a blessing not everyone has but honestly I would like to know what it is like living in the village."_

"_Jane, you would do better asking Pepper or Smithy," said Gunther, shaking his head. "My experience is far from the norm."_

"_Smithy has been set to fix up all of the dents in Sir Ivon's armor and you try getting Pepper to sit still and talk."_

"_Fair enough."_

"_Tell me, what is it like? Are the markets really as exciting as everyone makes out?"_

"_I never go so I could not tell you."_

"_Gunther, you must have gone at least once."_

"_I did go once. My father was off doing something and Peter sent me to fetch something for Mary."_

"_Who?"_

"_Peter works for our family, Mary is the cook. A few girls help tidy up once a week but that is beside the point. I went to market to get the garlic she wanted and some boys thought it good fun to throw some rocks at me. Called me a bastard and one of them spat on me. I do not go to market anymore."_

"_That…that is horrible!"_

"_People in the village do not have to be subtle about their dislike of my family. Especially when it is just me. They hate my family. Evil is in our blood, they say." They fell silent at the sound of footsteps, and turned to see Milton Turnkey, leaving the castle with a book under his arm._

"_Where are you going, father?"_

"_I have business in the quarries. We need some stone and I must go make certain we get it," the man said. "I will be back in two hours at most. I shall see you when I return Jane…" his pause was almost unnoticeable before he said, "Gunther."_

"_Lord Chamberlain," said Gunther, bowing his head in return. Milton walked on._

* * *

"I think the boy knows to leave the dramatics to Jester, Milton," said Jane's mother, drawing Jane from her memories.

"Well he obviously does not know that one should stay for the entirety of their father's funeral."

"I promise I will stay," said Jane.

"And we will hope that it will be a long time until then, will we not?" said Lady Adelaide with a glace to her daughter, who bowed her head in agreement. They walked the rest of the way home in silence.

Upon return, Jane went down to the kitchens for her midday meal. There she was met by her dear friends, none of which had gone down for the funeral. "How was it?" asked Pepper, setting down a bowl of soup before her.

"Those in attendance could have…could have conducted themselves a little more decently," said Jane, trying to stay a bit more delicate.

"Everyone acted poorly?" asked Rake.

"Well…not everyone. But Gunther walked out and I do not know where he went, and the priest had his work cut out for him given how there was a lot of spitting into the grave and cursing his eternal soul."

"That is just disrespectful, no matter who it is," said Smithy.

"But not altogether surprising," said Jester. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Well I never liked him. I never saw anyone else leaping to defend his honor. No one in town likes the Breech family, we all know that."

"It was the man's _funeral,_" said Pepper, staring at the youth in the bright clothing.

"Well that I am not disagreeing with. The fact that they disliked him enough to even _contemplate_ it is not surprising."

"But they were not _contemplating_ it," said Jane. "They were _doing _it."

"But they would have to think about it before doing it."

"He has a point," said Rake, and the others agreed, the slight argument fading from their minds as any other minor disagreement would.

* * *

Gunther, for his part, sat in his room in his childhood home, biting at his first finger as he shook from the emotions bottled in him. He had promised himself long ago that he would not cry anymore, and aside from reactionary tears of pain when he was struck by accident in particularly painful places, he had not cried in many years. He was not about to cry over his father.

If asked, Gunther could list far more reasons as to why he had disliked his father than reasons he liked him or anything approaching love. It was difficult to understand, then, why he was struggling against tears.

"Gunther?" asked a gentle voice, that of the family's manservant, Peter. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I-I just…no I am not." Gunther could not see Peter, but he could hear him approach and felt him sit beside him on the bed, not touching him.

"I have known you since you were just a child. And I know that you are more affected than you want to be by the people here. You told me about your promise to never cry again, and I respect your choices, _but_…sometimes tears do help. Especially when dealing with loss."

"Why do I want to cry? I _hated_ him."

"He was your father. He was a very large part of your life." He sighed. "I do not know what he told you when he was on his deathbed, but when you came out you looked more upset than I have ever seen you. And you do know that I at least will still be here for you."

"I thank you Peter."

"Do you need a hug?" Gunther said nothing, but simply leaned against him, staring a hole in the wall in an effort of not cry. Peter's arm wrapped around him fondly, rubbing the youth's strong arm. He had acted as a stand in for Gunther when Magnus had disappointed in the realm of parent. The amount of times that Gunther had sat beside him, leaning on him as he was now, helping him with whatever task he was engaged in, was far too high in his opinion. "Be valiant, Gunther. It will all work out."

"If anything I will need to change just about everything. I do not want to be a repeat of my father."

"I do not find any son wants to be a father's reprise. I understand that you most of all do not want that. What changes do you have in mind?"

"A lot of them. The rent, the quarries, the sailors…I had a lot of arguments with how my father ran his business."

"We all did."

"I will have to go to the continent too."

"I know."

"Do you promise to be here when I come back?"

* * *

"_Do you promise to be here when we come back home?" asked the child, no taller than his hip, with wide earnest eyes looking up at him. "Father says we are going all the way to the Emisomething of Corsomething."_

"_Emirate of Córdoba," said Peter with a smile. "Your father mentioned it."_

"_Right. But he says we will be gone a long time. Will you be here when we come back?"_

"_I do." The boy, leaned against him and fiddling with a loose piece of string that Peter was repairing one of Magnus' doublets with. "So long as you behave abroad."_

"_I always do!"_

"_Well then I will always be here when you return." The boy smiled, content at that._

* * *

"I promise, Gunther. Mary and I will still be here. We will welcome you home."

"I will not be leaving just yet. I would rather change things here before fleeing the kingdom."

"Would you call it fleeing?"

"Of course I would. I am leaving the country right after my father dies. That is running away in the eyes of everyone here."

"Not in my eyes."

"But you are not everyone." Gunther then stood, pulling away from Peter's embrace. "I need to talk to the foreman of the quarries. That is the first thing to change."

"You have a plan?"

"Yes. My father would have hated it."

"Then you go ahead and do it." A small smile appeared on Gunther's face, but only just past a ghost of one. "I will talk to Mary about making you something simple for dinner then. And I will see if you have any other black doublets."

"Thank you."

"What will you be doing?" And Gunther told him. "That Turnkey girl has been quite the positive influence to you, has she not?"

"Jane is a thing of miracles," he said, but his voice was sarcastic, and the return of that facet of his young employer, Peter smiled.

"You should take her with you to the continent when you go."

"Peter, I have been imagining that for years. If the situation allows, I might try to ask her. No one else would come with me to inform the contacts that my father is…" he trailed off, but huffed out a breath. "I will be able to say it by the time I leave. I will." Peter smiled at the youth and pushed himself to his feet, watching Gunther head off to the quarries outside of town.

The quarries had always been the one branch of his father's business that Gunther hadn't enjoyed. They were too loud, too dangerous, and after having to _build_ a wall multiple times in one day, Gunther really didn't like dealing with masonry.

Still, when he arrived, he was greeted by the foreman. "Afternoon, Master Breech," the man greeted. "I heard about what happened at your father's funeral this morning."

"The spitting, the cursing, or me leaving?" he asked.

"Well, all three to be honest, sir."

"I have no doubt. Now I had something I wanted to talk to you about. Business."

"And how you are going to run the quarries." Gunther nodded, looking up when he heard the familiar loud laugh of Dragon. And indeed, overhead flew the large creature and doubtless on his back was Jane, either on patrol or a pleasure flight. "That creature flies over nearly every day. Thankfully he never lands here or we would never get any work done." Gunther nodded, just watching them for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

* * *

Jane found she missed Gunther, gone as he was. She saw him when on patrol of course, walking down the path towards the quarries his father had owned that he now did, but she never _saw_ him. She hadn't talked to him about the passing of his father. They had become friends of a sort, and this was the sort of thing she ought talk to him about. Still, she couldn't until he came back to the castle a week after his father's burial.

"Gunther!" she called, going over to where he was walking, the young man dressed in a somber black she had never seen him wear before. "I know many people have probably asked already, but…how are you?"

"Jane, you are one of the first ones to ask after my emotions. Everyone else has asked for my business plans for the future. As for your question, I am nowhere near fine. My father is..." he seemed unable to say the word and that made Jane's heart jump in sympathy. "I am not ready for the responsibility before me," he said. "Now excuse me, I have to meet with the king."

His dismissal was abrupt, but Jane was mostly shocked at the redness of his eyes, and how choked his voice was. She could not imagine Gunther crying for some reason, he did not seem able to in her mind; he was somewhat a rival and mostly a friend, but there was nothing about him that presented to her as in need of a good cry. She would have cried long and hard over her own father's passing, but she couldn't imagine anyone mourning Magnus as his son seemed to be, especially with everything he had told her over the years.

The greatest shock, however, was when Jane stood beside her parents at the public audience Gunther came to (and what a shocking difference that was from Magnus and his insistence on private audiences) and heard the youth say, "Your majesties, since my father's passing, I have inherited much more land and business than I know what to do with. Some I am versed in how to deal with, but others I have no earthly idea what to do with. With this in mind, I have come to propose putting the quarries my family owns back under royal control." Immediately the hall was filled with conversation, everyone and their mother with something to say. Jane turned to look at her parents, her mother stared with shock while her father looked as if Gunther had just turned water to wine.

"May we inquire as to why?" asked King Caradoc once it had quieted somewhat.

"I do not need quarries. I already have twelve farms that provide for me, and ten more that pay me rent besides. Not to mention trade that reaches to Rome and Constantinople. The quarries are somewhat of overkill and it would serve the country far better if the profit went to the royal coffers and not my private ones."

"That is quite a different opinion from your father's."

"Hopefully you will find that I am different from my father on many accounts," was all Gunther said, before being swept off by Milton for logistics of turning over control.

He was just emerging from the Chamberlain's den when Jane found him again. "You sold the quarries?" she asked.

"Passed control. I asked no money."

"Fine, you _passed control _of the quarries. But do you realize how much that will help the kingdom?"

"I just listened to your father lecture about it, so yes." Jane smiled and hugged him suddenly, making him freeze from the unexpected attack.

"You are a good man, Gunther." And she said no more, just holding him until he hesitantly put his arms around her as well. Over the years she had hugged him many more times than he had thought possible, but each time he hadn't been very good at returning that easy affection.

"Then you will be pleased to hear that that is only the beginning of my plans," Gunther said, walking with her down the hallway and out towards the familiar training yard.

"Tell me as we spar?" she offered.

"Gladly."


	2. Chapter 2

That was the start of what was arguably the best part of Gunther's life. Milton Turnkey was correct, the wealth started to flow back into the kingdom, and with it, general like passed back to Gunther. For a youth who spent all his life ignoring everything from comments made about his legitimacy to stories about what horrible ills his father had done, it was a new experience, not having to defend himself. When he lowered the rent from the ridiculous rates his father kept it at, that good opinion only increased from the farmers, and one family even brought him a freshly slaughtered pig for dinner simply because they wanted to thank him.

Peter had laughed himself silly in shock at seeing the dead pig, taking it back to the kitchen where Mary was working and Gunther could hear her go off laughing as well. Quickly he asked the farmer who delivered the pig if he and his family would join him for dinner, there was no way he could eat a whole pig by himself. The man had been startled, but agreed, and that meal was one of the most awkward meals any of them had ever partaken in.

But the story spread and soon other families that paid him rent came with their own offerings, and stayed for their own dinners in the fine house. Peter hadn't let it go, laughing as he told Gunther, "You will be just as large as your father was soon!" The fact that Gunther gave up mourning when one of his black doublets became too small sent the man into a fit of laughter, telling Mary who shrieked in laughter, clapping her hands in amusement as she prepared lunch for the two of them. Neither had laughed in a long time, and now they were taking full advantage of their young employer's better humor.

"I hope you two are amused," said Gunther, who had entered during the midst of their laughing fits. Mary, unable to speak, just waved him off. Trying to turn back to the stew she was making. "I am meeting with the sailors of the _Pixie Kay._ Mary, will you keep a bowl warm for me? It should not take long."

"Meeting with the sailors?" asked Peter, calming himself.

"Their contracts have been going on _far_ too long. I'm offering to terminate them."

* * *

Jane, being daughter to the Chamberlain, was well aware of how much money had suddenly flown back into the economy now that Magnus Breech was dead. But it was still strange when her father said that he could afford to buy both her and her mother enough red and blue cloth for two new dresses ("Theoretically of course for you, Jane. I know you refuse to wear dresses," he had been quick to add). Red and blue and black were the most expensive colors to buy, and that they could suddenly afford them without her father throwing a fit and turning a worrying shade of red? That was a miracle.

"It is the farmers," said her father had explained. "They have enough extra to bring to market. Gunther has lowered the rent by at least half."

"Half? What was the amount originally?" asked Jane, her eyebrows raising.

"Well that I do not know. I am not in Gunther's confidence, you know. But given Magnus' particular vice, it was very high."

"Greed is a deadly sin, father. Just saying that he had a 'particular vice' is a vast understatement."

"Well he never partook in simony."

"Father."

"I must concede the point however." He smiled at her and Jane smiled right back. "Still, with all the extra money they have, the farmers are going to market and the money is circulating again. Gunther is doing the same, he is paying his workers more."

"I knew he was a good man. He just needed a chance to show it."

"I doubt he wished his father's death to be that chance."

"No one would wish for their father's death. That Gunther did not is proof of that." They lapsed into silence until Jane excused herself to go practice her archery. Gunther had told her his plans, but she hadn't realized how much they would actually change, and in such a short span of time. She had known him to be good with numbers, that came with living with them your whole life, but she had always thought his talents lay more along knightly and creative paths.

Apparently he had more talents than she had thought.

"I remember when you could barely hit the inner rings on a good day," said Jester, come to join her.

"Afternoon, Jester," she greeted, notching another arrow. Loosing it, she watched as it flew forward and hit the bull's-eye. That was the first time in days she managed it, and there was still that rush of jealousy that Gunther could always hit it with little to no effort.

"I admit it."

"Admit what?" she turned to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Gunther Breech is not a bog weevil."

"It only took you five years. If you actually talked to him beyond insults, you would have changed your mind a long time ago."

"May I remind you that you refused to talk to him beyond insults at one point too?"

"Yes, but then I matured past that." And she fired another arrow, striking the outer edge of the target. "Maggots."

"He brought you gifts from Italy and you suddenly became best friends. That is not maturing."

"We did not suddenly become best friends. We had to talk a few times before it stopped being an anomaly and a few more beyond that so it did not feel like a truce. He does not make friends as easily as you, Jester. And you should stop being so harsh. Gunther is singlehandedly reviving the kingdom's economy."

"I think you are giving him too much credit."

"How do we know how much money his father hoarded? There is quite a bit circulating again and it would do us all good to remember who is responsible for that." Collecting her arrows, she spared him a glance. "Why do you dislike him so much anyway? What has he done to you? You have treated him poorly for a long time. Why?" Jester didn't answer, merely mumbled something about going to write a ballad and leaving her behind.

* * *

Captain Blink (called so for his one eye, Gunther had had to sit through the story of how he lost the other and that was not an experience he would wish on anyone) clapped Gunther on the shoulder, grinning a smile missing half its teeth. "You are a good lad," he declared. "But the _Pixie Kay,_ she is my home. I will happily sail her 'til the day I die, boy. But your offer is appreciated."

"You are old Blink, I did not think you would relish being at sea," said Gunther, fond of the old man even though the ancient sailor had made it his mission to frighten the youth with stories of life at sea. "Blink, do you even have family in the village?"

"No. I took to the seas when I was a young lad and she has been my only mistress all these years. Never took a wife, never sired any children, and watched my family drop off one by one like flies." The grin slipped from the old captain's lips. "Oh. Your father is not cold in the grave yet, is he? I am sorry lad."

Gunther sighed, bowing his head a moment. "It has been a month. I would say that he is cold and rotting by now."

"But you?"

"…I am going to talk to the rest of the crew, if that is alright. Tell them about my offer to cut short contracts?"

"You will get a few takers, of that I am certain. But there are others who will rather stay aboard."

"I would like a crew. I need to get to the continent soon enough anyway."

"If all else, you have me. I could row you over in a rowboat!"

"Let us hope we have a ship, shall we?" but Gunther gave a small forced smile before leaving the Captain's Quarters, finding the crew of the _Pixie Kay_ gathered outside, some standing, some leaning on the rails, and at least two up in the rigging. "I do not know how many of you were listening at the door," Gunther said, looking especially at the cabin boy, a young lad called Durward, "so I will just tell you. I am offering to cut short most of your contracts." It seemed not many were listening, as quite a few were murmuring to each other in surprise, but Durward did not look at all confused. "My father kept contracts that kept you in service for twenty years. That is quite excessive, I believe. Those of you who wish to remain, I will cut the length you must serve down to a much more reasonable length, though I have yet to determine how long that will be."

"Cut short me contract, lad," said one of the older sailors, one called Walter. "The seas are not kind to a man's joints after a while." Gunther nodded.

"Anyone else wish to stop working?"

"Aye," said Geoffrey, a man just a few years older than Gunther. "I have a sweetheart I would marry, and I need ta be on land for that."

"Just Walter and Geoffrey, then?" Two more, Gavin and Oliver, took the offer, but the rest of the crew remained. Secretly, Gunther was relieved. He had honestly provided the perfect opportunity for those he had known most of his life to leave forever. And yet most of them stayed, the others leaving citing painful joints or a desire to settle with their families.

"I will miss sailin' with ya, lad," Geoffrey said, settling with the other three for a last pipe on the deck. "But me Muriel is not going to wait much longer for me."

"I wish you happiness, Geoffrey," Gunther said.

"You ought find yersself a sweetheart," advised Oliver, waving his pipe at him.

"Oliver, you have been at sea too long. No woman in Kippernium would marry me, and no woman in Frankia would leave her home for a corner of the world such as this." The man merely shrugged. "Now I must go home and actually figure out some logistics about this." Waving goodbye, he made his way down the gangplank easily, and started to walk back to his big, empty house.

The house was too large, he always thought so. If he had about four more siblings _and_ both parents, perhaps it would be the right size, but for two people? It was much too large, even more so for one. Both Peter and Mary never spent the night, and in the last month since his father passed, Gunther had taken to wandering it at night, going up and down the stairs, in and out of the kitchen, standing at the door that blocked him from the room his father had died in, not daring to open it for some ingrained instinct or another.

It was a depressing thing, when he thought about it. He had so many left over ticks and habits and such from when his father had been alive and so overwhelmingly important in his life that he had yet to reenter the room where the man had died. "Really," he had scolded himself multiple times. "It is not like he is in there! It is just a room. Stop being pathetic, Gunther, it is just a door. Just open the door!" but no matter how he would reach for the handle, he would never open it, and return to the room he had lived in all his life, the one down the hall that had a window that let him watch the ocean.

An ocean that he would have to cross sooner rather than later.

* * *

Jane had found herself as the sole defender of Gunther Breech many times over the past five years, but now she could not understand why Gunther's plans had been what they were. He told her he was going to lower the rent on the farms and he was going to pay people more and that he was going to cut short the contracts for the sailors aboard the _Pixie Kay_ but she never understood why.

"I do not understand why he would do that," Rake was saying, his voice quiet but upset. "My parents work for him now. Why did he not let them stop working?"

"I am certain that he did not specifically think of you and decide to make them keep contract," she said from where she sat on an overturned bucket. "I could go ask him. I know the _Pixie Kay_ is mostly out of port, but now that it is here, surely something could be done."

"I do not want to make you do that for me. I could go ask him myself."

"And leave your garden alone?"

"Alright, that is true. You will ask him?"

"Of course. Gunther has always liked to tease people, but he is not malicious, not like his father." Rake merely shrugged, and Jane frowned at him. He was upset, she could tell that. "We will have this cleared up, just you wait."

"Hmm." Jane stood, turning to head to the kitchen. If anyone could cheer Rake now, it would be Pepper.

"Pepper!" she called, bounding down the stairs.

"What is it, Petal?" asked Pepper, chopping a turnip.

"Rake is in a bad mood."

"Oh dear. Is it about his parents? I know he misses them…"

"Yes, but I promised to ask about them."

"Good. Well I will see to him, never you mind about Rake."

"I trust you. I will see you for dinner!" and Jane was already up the stairs by the time Pepper called her own farewell. Jane was on a mission to ask Gunther why Rake's parents didn't have their contract shortened.

* * *

The door was opened by a man who was about the same age as Magnus would have been, with blond hair and an easy smile. "Are you here to see Gunther?" he asked.

"Yes. I am Jane Turnkey and—"

"He has mentioned you. Follow me." The man introduced himself as Peter, and brought her to where Gunther was eating, but he looked up and pushed his bowl of stew away.

"Jane," he greeted, "may I ask why you are here?"

"Rake made me promise to come down," she said, sitting beside him. "His parents are not stopping their work."

"Yes. Cedric and Millicent. I did offer to cut short anyone's contract. Only four out of the crew took the offer. I did not force anyone and I did not choose anyone."

"Rake is still upset."

"I imagine so. Those who stay on, their contracts will shorten by far. I have yet to decide how long, but I could not let people work twenty years with a clear conscience. His parents wanted to keep working, Cedric is living a boyhood dream, being a sailor. I cannot take that away from him, much as I do not want anyone to be without parents."

"I suppose you have some experience with that."

He let out a snort. "I can list you far more that I hated about my father than anything close to love. But no one should be without parents who love them. We all know how that turns out."

"Gunther, you turned out _fine._ You are a good man, do you doubt me?"

"Yes." The honest answer threw Jane for a loop, and she said nothing for a long moment. "Should you not be up at the castle?"

"Theoretically. The man who let me in, Peter? He said you have mentioned me?"

Gunther rolled his eyes. "Peter has worked for my family since before I was a page. That man has been a stand in for my father many times. Of course I told him when I was frustrated with you over the years." She raised a brow at him. "And a few times when I was happy, too. He has a high opinion of you."

"That is always nice to hear."

"Jane, if you were just here to understand why Rake's parents are not cutting short their work, you would be gone by now. Why are you still here?"

"Because I like talking to you? Gunther, it has been a month since your father passed, and I have yet to see you get anywhere near a smile. You tell me you can hate the man easier than you can love him. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Gunther…"

"Jane, if I wanted to talk to you, I would have done it by now. I have lingering emotions about my father, you would too if yours died. If that is all, I would suggest you go back to the castle." Jane looked at him, studying his face. Over the years he had gotten very handsome, and with the return of a bit of favor towards him, it was obvious that a few village girls had noticed that. And he had mastered the ability to hide all of his emotions, she had seen him do it many, many times in the past. But because of their friendship (apparently the only friendship he had in the kingdom), Gunther had honored her with never using that mask towards her. She had always seen what he felt.

The fact that now his face was entirely blank stung a bit.

"Jester was convinced for a bit that all you have done was the set up for some evil deed," she said instead.

"I can see why many people would believe that." He looked relieved now, glad that their conversation was not heading down the path she had tried to drive it. "But if there is anything I will not be, I will not be my father. _On doit pourvoir changer l'histoire._"

"Gunther, _please_ do not speak French with me right now. You know I cannot keep up with you when you do."

"That is the point, is it not?"

"Are…are you teasing me? You have not done that since your father fell ill!" He did not smile, but there was amusement in his eyes and Jane swatted him. "You biscuit weevil!"

"Dung brain," he said, but the same as Jane there was no malice between the old insults. Still there was no smile.

"Honestly though, how are you? I have not seen you smile in a very long time now."

"It may be a long time before you see me smile again," he warned. But he reached and took her hand, holding it firmly, and looking at her dead in the eye as he said, "Thank you. For caring enough to ask. You are one of three people in this kingdom who would care enough, and the other two are Peter and our cook Mary."

"You are my friend, Gunther. I still remember when you first told me about the things your father had done and the things you did for your father. I did not realize it when I was younger, but you need more friends than myself and your servants." She offered a smile. "But do remember that I am always your friend." He nodded, and squeezed her hand before letting go.

"You should go back to the castle."

"Will you be alright?" she asked even as she stood.

"I will manage." And Jane took her leave.

* * *

"It is only a door," he scolded himself, hand outstretched but unable to touch the handle let alone open it. "You have opened doors thousands of times in your life, you can open this one." Taking bracing breath, he did touch the handle, but still that was the farthest he had gone and he could not push it open. "Stop being _pathetic_ Gunther. You are not a little boy, there is nothing to be scared of, you are being pathetic hesitating like this."

Closing his eyes, he opened the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty house. And Gunther stood there in the doorway of what used to be his father's bedroom, the room the man had died in, and he did not open his eyes or enter the room.

_You are a useless, filthy, nasty little creep!_ The half-imagined and half-remembered voice of his father, angry and disappointed in equal measure (and it always showed up when Gunther had failed him in some way, when he hadn't done something right, when he hadn't fixed everything, it was always his fault), making him flinch even though the man was dead.

_You are a good man. Do you doubt me?_ And as always, the memory of Jane's earnest eyes, her constant easy affection with her friends (and it was still a small miracle that he was considered one of those), the endless smiles she had in her, it eased his fears, irrational though they were. He was nearly a knight now, he should not be this scared, and strengthened by the memory of Jane's overwhelming trust in him, he opened his eyes.

The room honestly was no different, just slightly dustier. It wasn't like Gunther was expecting much else, but it was still a slight relief to see that. Magnus had never been one to keep little treasures like Gunther, his room was void of stones picked up from the banks of the Seine, of purple glass tiles he bought when he was a child simply because they looked pretty, there was nothing of the sort, just the luxuries Magnus had been so fond of.

Stepping in, Gunther found himself braver and braver with each step, the memory of Jane's smile in his mind. Remembering that he had a friend here in his home country, it helped more than he could say. The bed was empty and without the constant tightening, the ropes holding it had begun to sag. The chest at the foot of the bed still held his father's clothing and he knew that if he opened the chest under the window it would be filled with his father's records, written on parchment and tree bark when he had not wanted to buy parchment for the prices. It was one of the few prices he did not control either, and so he would nearly always take the cheaper route.

Part of him, the childish part that had wanted to just curl up and cry and hide until the bad things went away so many times, wanted to burn those records just to spite his father and his greedy ways. But the rest of him knew that he wanted to keep them, that he did not want to lose the relationships he had with the families in Frankia, and perhaps those relations even would help him when he was a knight.

But Gunther felt just about ready to leave this room, to go back to his room surrounded by his little treasures, to pull the songs he amused himself by writing out from under the bed and to continue scribbling away at them. They weren't good, but they made him happy, and he needed some sort of positive emotion again.

And so he did, songs in French and English and Latin and even one in Greek taking his mind off of the real world for just a moment. But that moment was welcomed.

* * *

"Only four men actually took the offer," Jane told Rake in as assuring a manner as she could. "Your parents love sailing, same as you love your garden."

"I suppose. I was still hoping…" said the gardener, but there was sadness in his voice.

"He told me that their contracts will be shortened, they will not have to work much longer. If they renew their contracts, I do not know."

"I do not want to take them away from what they love. If someone tried to take me away from my garden I would be very upset. But I still miss them." Jane patted his arm sympathetically, but left when she heard Sir Theodore calling her name.

"Jane, you are set to sentry duty," the old knight said. She nodded, but in the privacy of her own mind, she groaned. She hated sentry duty, it was the most boring of them all, standing and watching though no one came or went. But still she went, ready to stand, waiting for something to happen.

She spent a lot of time waiting recently. But there was change in the kingdom and perhaps waiting would bring about something interesting soon enough.

* * *

**A/N: **So I don't really know how long contracts were held for, so I guessed at twenty. Durward is and old English name, and Millicent, Cedric, Gavin, Oliver, Geoffrey, Muriel, and Walter are all authentic names from the Middle Ages.

_On doit pouvoir changer l'histoire_: We must be able to change the story

Pixie Kay was the original name of my family's 1948 Taylor Craft, but her name changed. I'm still very fond of the name Pixie Kay so I've kept it and used it in this story.

The official website says that Rake's parents work on a trading vessel, and let's be honest who else has a trading vessel?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Ta-da! After being in Japan for 12 days, I have returned!

I don't really have much to day as a preface now, so let me just send you on your way and I'll drop a few notes at the end.

* * *

Then Gunther told them he would be leaving for a few months. He had to go tell his father's contacts that he was dead. He asked for a few months leave so as to do so, and when King Caradoc opened and closed his mouth a few times in surprise, it was Sir Ivon who spoke.

"A year away from training? You would be knighted late," he said.

"A late knighting is better than leaving this task undone," was all Gunther said in reply.

"I am willing to grant you the leave, but could you not send some messenger?" asked the king.

"Unfortunately not. That would require someone fluent in French, Latin, and Greek. They would have to know where the contacts of my family live, as well as those I know personally who would very much like to know. Plus there are very few people I would trust with overseeing credit and monetary exchanges."

"Gunther, if I may," said Jane, stepping forward and turning attention to her. "Dragon and I could take you. It would not require months that way, you would not be a year behind in training." Her suggestion was accepted by the king, and though Gunther tried to protest that he would really rather not fly, that a holy war could descend upon them, etc., it was ignored and somehow he ended up bowing and accepting the month leave he was granted.

Part of him was secretly disappointed. He enjoyed the journey, the ship's lazy float down the Seine, exploring the secret corners of the cities, sitting in the sunbathed courtyards of Italy, wandering along the canals of Venice, and now he would be rushed along. But Jane was coming and that was a long imagined thing, so its reality was appreciated.

"You will leave at the end of the week," decided Caradoc, and as always, his word was law.

"Jane, may I speak to you?" said Queen Gwendolyn, and Jane went to her, following her as she walked through the halls of the castle. "Jane, have you ever left Kippernium?"

"I have flown with Dragon to a few of our neighbors, but no further than that," said Jane.

She nodded. "You will find, Jane, that the rest of the world is very different from Kippernium. Here we have little to fear, but you will find that not everyone is as merciful as those you live with."

"So…so what? I need protection?"

"No. No, Gunther will have contacts in neighborhoods where you will have nothing to fear, but you must understand that saying that you are a squire will result in intense backlash, and may cost Gunther his contacts." Jane nodded. It made sense and she knew that, but there was something about the Queen's calm voice explaining it that made it a reality.

She nodded quietly, just absorbing what the Queen had to say. Finally she let the squire go, and Jane immediately went to prepare for the journey. Meaning, she had to talk to Dragon about it.

The reptile was, at the moment, sunbathing on one of the castle walls, but he looked up when she approached. "Morning Jane," he greeted.

"Good morning, Greenlips," she replied, coming to a stop before him. She hadn't really thought of the correct way to tell Dragon of her suggestion to the king, and now she was regretting that. Dragon didn't have the smoothest history with Gunther, to put it lightly, past five years of friendship or otherwise. "I, uh, I might have made a promise to the king."

"And what does he want now?" he asked, eyes slipping shut. "A new field of cabbage?"

"No. He…well it is not even entirely him. But, well do you remember how Gunther and his father would go to the Continent?"

"I do not like where this is going."

"I volunteered us to take Gunther around the Continent so he can tell his contacts that his father is dead."

"Jane," said Dragon, his voice dangerous and quiet. "Do you remember where Saint George came from?"

"Rome. Eastern part."

"And where does Gunther's Gnostic friend come from?"

"…Same place."

"And do you remember what Saint George _did?_"

"He travelled to Silene and found Princess Sabra dressed as a bride and about to be fed to a dragon. And then he killed it in exchange of their conversion to Christianity. And where the dragon was killed grew a fount of magical water that cured all ills and a church was built around it dedicated to the Virgin Mary and to George."

"And do you know how many different pieces of art about that moment there are?"

"I am sorry! I just thought—"

"If you understand that, then you know how risky it will be getting the two of you around the Continent. You need to understand, if it comes down to it, I will take you to safety rather than land close to whatever cities you are going to. It may be a few days' walk there."

Jane blinked at him before asking, "So you…you will take us?"

"Of course."

"Thank you Dragon!" she cried, embracing his nose. She _hadn't_ thought but he was going to look past that in favor of helping her and Gunther. It was a wonderful thing, having that good of a friend.

* * *

It turned out to be more difficult for her to explain to her friends.

"You are going to the Continent?" asked Jester, staring at her. The others fell silent. They had all wanted to ask, but none had worked up the courage. "You have never gone beyond our direct neighbors!"

"Perhaps, but Sir Theodore always says that he learned the most about life while he was in Baghdad. Travel is important for a knight."

"Petal," said Pepper gently. "Do you…do you even know where you are _going?_" Jane faltered at that. No, no she didn't. She had an idea, but she didn't quite _know._

"I…I have not had a chance to ask. But I know we will be going to Rome at the very least. And Venice."

"I would rather stay here," said Smithy. He always had been a quiet voice of reason amongst them, and even as the hulking bear of a man he was becoming, he was still among the most gentle of anyone they knew, as careful of the horses as he had been when he was just starting and unable to pick up the heaviest hammers (ones he now tossed from hand to hand with ease).

"Well then you can keep Rake and me company," said Pepper. "If everyone else will be running across borders!" Jester was frowning, and Jane was well aware of the questions he would ask. They were best friends, but sometimes Jane wondered if Jester ever did grow out of that love for her.

"Do you even speak French?" he asked.

"No. But Gunther does and that will have to be enough. Besides, we are going to Italy and I speak Latin."

"You are very casual about this."

"You are overreacting about this, Jester. I appreciate your concern, but I am a squire, I will be travelling with a squire, we are both approaching knighthood, and we will have a dragon. And unless Saint George rises from the dead, we will not have much to worry about."

"Can I not worry about my best friend?"

"Please do. Pray for our safe return. But do not prevent me from going. I will return." She clasped his hand and fixed him with a look until he sighed and said,

"Very well. I will pray every day for you, though."

"I appreciate that."

* * *

"You will be flying?" asked Mary, staring at the youth who sat in her kitchen with a map, reading by the bright fire. "Have you lost your sanity?"

"Thank you, Mary. No, King Caradoc took Jane up on her offer to fly me. It seems dangerous, we could have a holy war falling on our heads, but we will be flying all the same. Dragon has travelled and avoided too much notice before, presumably he can do it again."

"If a holy war is declared, you run away to Paris."

"I will see if that is possible."

Mary smiled, fond of him, and asked, "Have you told Jane where you will be going?"

"Not yet. Do not look at me like that! I will tell her tomorrow. But I need to figure what order we go in."

"I trust your judgment." And they fell to silence. Gunther had always spent time in her kitchen, mostly when he had been a little boy, and as he grew, he grew out of her kitchen. But times like this, when he sat at the stool near the fire, occupied with some small task, it was as if he was a child of four years again. Mary had been younger then, and far more able to pick him up and set him down away from knives and hot water.

She had started working for the Breech Family when Gunther was just four, she herself just twelve. It had been far from her first choice, working for the family that "had evil in their blood" but she grew fond of the son if not the father, and now she could not imagine a life working anywhere else.

"I am going home," she said after a long while, now that the kitchen was clean and prepared for work in the morning. "Go to bed, Gunther. Soon."

"Goodnight, Mary," he merely said in return, focused on his map and his plans. She smiled at him one last time before leaving the Breech home and leaving the young man to his work.

* * *

Jane bounded down the path to the village, the sun bright above her, warming the earth slowly as it climbed and warmed. She needed to ask Gunther about a lot of aspects of this journey they would be taking, especially where they would be going.

As she made her way past the church, she saw a familiar face going towards the building. "Peter!" she called, waving to the man. The servant turned to her, and smiled a greeting.

"Good morning, Jane," he said when she grew near. "Would you come with me a moment? There is something I want to show you."

"I am to meet Gunther…"

"Did you give him a time?" she laughed and followed him into the churchyard. It was a familiar grave they stopped at, one of Magnus Breech.

"Is there…" but she fell quiet as Peter dropped to a crouch in front of it.

"I cannot read, you know," he said conversationally. "This old man would give me papers to deliver because he knew I cannot read them. I was trusted because of my ignorance. But I was smarter than he ever gave me credit for. See, I knew some of his secrets."

Jane nodded. "That is quite the feat."

"Do not scoff. It was impossible to get anything out of him, it took weeks of subtle hinting to get any amount of information. Oh he loved his secrets all right.

"No one really knows what happened to Gunther's mother, you know. She was just gone one day. He never said a word. Then he got sick. Every day Gunther went and asked after his mother, but he just refused to say. Then the day before he died Gunther left his side in a right temper, slamming all the doors." Peter stood, and said, "I still have no idea what Magnus said to him, but it was enough to set that boy to a temper like I have never seen him in before."

"Gunther mentioned once that his father got angry whenever he asked about her."

"Well he could not go anywhere while dying. Still a manipulative old man, but in one place."

"Did you ever learn what happened to Gunther's mother?" asked Jane, a little hopeful.

"If I did, I would have told that boy years ago. No, the secrets I weaseled out of him were more where he hid his money. Gunther knows now, but it was still an accomplishment at the time." Jane smiled. "One day all our questions will be answered, that I know. But when…that is what we do not."

They stood in silence a long time, looking at the cross that marked Magnus' final resting place, before Jane said, "Should we be going to the house?"

"Indeed we should," agreed Peter. "You must have questions."

"Yes, I would like to know where I agreed to go." The two of them made their way to the large house, walking in silence. Jane was thinking long and hard about what Peter said. Secrets that Magnus had kept from everyone, that horrible mood that took Gunther the day before his father died. It was something she would like to explore.

* * *

"Where will we be going?" asked Jane, finding Gunther tucked by a window looking over the garden that Magnus insisted was kept, slowly becoming overrun when the plants were left alone to their own devices. Rake would cry, but whether from joy or sorrow was unknown.

He looked up at her from where he was looking at a pile of papers in his lap. "Nine cities," he answered. "Possibly ten but I hope it will not come to that." And he unfolded from his sunny spot, taking her to where a map lay. "We will start in Harfleur, and then head south." He drew his finger along the river, tracing down to Paris. "We will stay in Paris for about three or four days, and from there we will come here, to Lyons. We will be there maybe a day, and then to Turin. From Turin we will head east to Milan, here. We will stay in Milan a few days before going to Venice. And from there to Rome. We will stay in Rome the longest, but from there we will go west, to Córdoba."

"Córdoba?" asked Jane.

"It is an Emirate in the Moslem empire. Two cities there, Madrid and Córdoba itself."

"You honestly have connections there?"

"Yes. You remember how my father convinced all of us that the dragon egg was real and came from there."

"I thought he was lying."

"Ordinarily he _was_ lying. But he had indeed heard stories of camels dragging ships and such. He lied about the truth." And he turned back to the map. "It will be a long flight, but from Cordoba we will head east, up to Hammaburg, here by the Danish kingdom. From there we will return home."

"You have thought this through."

"Of course. We only have a month."

"I do not think that any of us realized how far we would be travelling."

"Unless you want to appeal for more time, we will have to rush along."

"Then I will ask for two months. Gunther, you said possibly ten cities. What would be the tenth?"

"Constantinople. There are traders we do business with, but I cannot say with any certainty that they will be in Venice. If they are not, we will have to fly to Constantinople before going to Rome."

Jane looked at the map, at where Gunther's finger had drawn a line from the city labeled _Veneto_ to _Constantinople_, across the Adriatic, Ionian, Aegean seas, and the Sea of Marmara. The only quicker way would be to cross the land, through the Slavic, Avarian, and Bulgarian lands.

"Have you ever been there?" she asked, looking at the stretches of land that they might have to cross and thinking of the dangers of landing, or the seas they would have to cross, and wondering just how long Dragon could fly.

"No. But I have heard about it. I would like to see it someday, but perhaps not now."

Jane nodded, and then suddenly began to giggle. Gunther looked at her with confusion. "I apologize," she said, snorting with her laughter. "But it just feels like we are planning a battle!"

"A battle?" he asked.

"I know, it is silly but—"

"Jane, if we were planning a battle, would we not have to ask for the acorns Sir Ivon and Sir Theodore use?" She looked at him a moment before bursting out laughing again. If she had looked, she would have seen the edges of Gunther's lips turn up in a smile. But as it was, she just laughed until she could laugh no more.

* * *

Sir Theodore was old. There was no two ways around it, he was old. And when Jane came to him informing him that they would be gone _two_ months now, he simply nodded.

"But we both promise to do our best with training as soon as we get back. Gunther especially," she was saying.

"Jane," he said gently."I am not worried about you or Gunther falling behind in training. What you are going to do is something most knights do not have a chance to see. You are seeing the world inside Gunther's mind."

"The world…?" asked Jane, confused. Sir Theodore was fond of riddling answers to questions, and over the years Jane had grown very good at deciphering him, yet this made no sense.

"Gunther has lived in a very different world from you, Jane. He has seen those places, he knows those languages. It is important to learn about the world before you go about fighting the people in it on the battlefield."

"You have grown cynical."

"Far from it. Just old."

"You are very dignified for your age." Sir Theodore laughed. Jane was honest and good and kind, but she could flatter every so often.

"Has Gunther told you where you will be going?"

"Yes, and that is why we had to ask for a second month. We will be travelling through Frankia towards Rome, but if some of his contacts are not in Venice then we will have to fly to Constantinople. But then we will go to Madrid and Córdoba and then to Hammaburg and home."

"Those are all very far apart from each other. Still, it will be a good experience for you. You should talk to your parents about this."

"I already have, I told them we were leaving for two months before I came to tell you. Mother was not happy."

"She is worried about you. And your father?"

"Not much better. But as long as I have Dragon with me, they know he will keep me safe."

"It is good they realize that. You leave in two days, do you not?"

"Yes I do."

"Then fair winds to Dragon's wings. I will pray for your safe return."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

**A/N:** And they're nearly off! A few notes. Well, when I say a few...

Saint George and the Dragon: While the story itself is pretty much common folklore, the details are what is lost. George was alive in the 3rd/4th century in what is now Israel, he was born in Lydda (now Lod). The story of the Dragon is disjointed through the years, but I went with the oldest incarnation, the Golden Legend. Though the Golden Legend took stories from two other sources, Jean de Mailly's "Abbreviato in gestis miraculis sanctorum" (Summary of the Deed and Miracles of the Saints) and Bartholomew of Trent's "Epilogum in gesta sanctorum" (Afterword on the Deeds of the Saints), and the Golden Legend was probably written in the 13th century.

In the Golden Legend's version, George traveled to what is now Libya, to a kingdom called Silene, which had a lake right beside it, with a plague bearing dragon living in it, making everyone sick. so they sent their children as meals for the dragon by lottery, and once Princess Sabra was chosen. She was sent as a bride to be eaten, George saved her, they tied her girdle around the dragon's neck and it followed demurely back to the city. Jane explains the rest.

Okay, so _technically, _to Jane and Gunther, the Roman Empire still exists. What we call Byzantine is still Rome to them. The center is just in Constantinople now, not Rome. But it would just get really confusing if we had two Romes, so for the sake of this story, it's Byzantine. I'm sorry, but I had to choose something to make everything clear, and Rome became Byzantine for the sake of the story. But the citizens will probably still be called Romans for the sake of accuracy.

As for the idea of a holy war Gunther keeps mentioning, let's just remember. A dragon.

And now, the map. If you look on a map, to sail from Venice to Constantinople would require the crossing of the four seas mentioned. The Adriatic sea is the immediate sea you would enter, sailing south would take you into a corner of the Ionian before going into the Aegean Sea (probably the most well known, considering how often it's talked about in the Odyssey) by Greece. The Sea of Marmara is the last body of water before reaching what is now Istanbul.

If you were crossing the land, you would probably sail from Venice to Umag, a Croatian sea town which was once a Roman settlement for the rich, a sort of vacation city. You would then have to cross Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Macedonia and/or Bulgaria, and then just along the Sea of Marmara to Istanbul. However, in the 9th century, this was extremely dangerous, as those lands had a bit of shaky Byzantine control, and belonged firmly to the Slav, Avarian, and Bulgar people, mostly nomadic tribes. The tribes in those areas were, however, famous for the brutality. The Pechenegs, who lived in that same area, if a little north, are famous for having killed a Grand Prince of Kievan Rus and used his skull as a drinking cup.

Sir Theodore is, at this time, 71 years old. Impressive, but not impossible. Charlemagne managed to live to that same age, but that was the year he died. Theodore unfortunately does not have much time left in him, but he is still alive.

And that's that!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, just gonna let you all know that the French in this chapter, of which I tried to keep mostly to a minimum, does not have any bearing on the plot, and if it does, it will be translated.

Also that I may not be entirely accurate with all the little details but I try my best.

* * *

They tied their packs around Dragon's front left leg, to keep safe, and though Gunther looked at the dragon dubiously, he did climb to sit on his neck. Jane was still saying goodbyes.

"Be good, remember your manners, and always look sharp for any danger," her mother was saying, fretting something awful.

"We will pray for you," her father was assuring. "God grant you return to us nothing more than wiser."

"I promise, father. I will come home unharmed. I am a squire and I have Dragon. I will come home. I swear it." But she was still enveloped in an embrace from both of them. Next she was embraced by Princess Lavinia, begging to take her with her. "Princess, you have to stay here. You know that."

"But I want to see the Continent too!" she insisted.

"Not where we are going," said Gunther from where he waited for Jane. "You would get very bored very quickly."

"No I would not!"

"Do you want to sit and listen to talk about money and economics?"

"No!"

"Then you do not want to come." Jane smiled as the princess pulled away with a pout, and appeased her by saying,

"I will bring something back for you, how about that?" Queen Gwendolyn merely reminded her of their conversation, and King Caradoc of their two month deadline. Sir Ivon gave a farewell that was as gruff as his normal personality, and Sir Theodore merely said,

"If you travel far enough, they say you will meet yourself along the road." He had grown fond of cryptic statements and puzzles as he got older, and they amused Jane as much as they confused her.

"I will look for her," she promised with a bit of a laugh. With a nod, he left, and all those who remained to say goodbye were her friends. Pepper was a little teary, embracing Jane and making her promise again and again to stay safe. Rake asked if she could see if she could bring back some seeds of different types of plants, to make up for all the vegetables that Dragon ate to give him enough lift, and Smithy just embraced her, saying nothing.

When Jester embraced her, he said nothing until he let her go and said, "I will pray for your safe return. I swear it."

"Thank you," she said earnestly before stepping away. She sat before Gunther, in her usual place on Dragon's neck, Dragon getting up.

"Goodbye, short lives!" he called. Jane waved and Gunther did nothing, merely clutched onto one of Dragon's spines with all his strength. With a bound onto the castle wall, Dragon was lifting up into the air, and Jane was hooting with exhilaration at what was before them.

"I hate this so much," Gunther was muttering behind her, and she could see his knuckles turning white from his hold on Dragon's spine.

"You will be flying quite a bit, Gunther," reminded Jane as Dragon flew them steadily upwards and upwards in circles around the castle and village.

"Better get used to all its wonders!" Dragon added. Gunther looked far from pleased as Dragon suddenly turned, pitching them to the side. Jane was used to it, even to spins and loops, but she could plainly tell that Gunther was far from enchanted by flying.

"Dragon, perhaps you should save your energy? We have a long way to fly, after all," she said over the wind. Dragon made a noise of agreement, and continued to soar, using the wind to carry them along.

"You know, we would be going a lot faster if I did not have all this weight on my legs," said Dragon after a while, as they started to leave the kingdom behind.

"We would be going a lot faster, if you went the correct direction," countered Gunther. "I told you south-_southeast,_ not south."

"The quicker we make the rounds, the quicker we can go home," reminded Jane. Dragon readjusted his direction, but still grumbled the whole way. "No one knows about Dragon, do they?" this last directed towards Gunther.

"Of course not. My father wanted money, not a holy war descending on us. He will have to land far away from Harfleur. We will walk in. They will wonder why I did not come aboard the Pixie Kay, but I will say we came from Hammaburg. In Hammaburg, we will say the same of Harfleur."

"And you _will_ be calling Jane your fellow squire," said Dragon forcefully.

"I was going to call her my dearest friend, you overgrown lizard."

"With wings! I am an overgrown lizard _with wings!_" this time Jane actually did laugh, sitting between the two bickering males.

* * *

They tapered off when they could no longer see their home, when all around them was water but a few small islands. Dragon was gliding along quietly, Jane almost dozing, her head nodding as she slipped in and out of light unconsciousness. Gunther had taken to holding onto her shoulders to keep her upright and safely on Dragon's neck. But he too was tired. Dragon's flying habits created a gentle rocking that, after the past two hours, was soothing him into his own doze.

But he shook himself awake, saying, "That's Harfleur!" Jane jolted awake herself, and looked ahead at the same time as Dragon.

"How can you tell?" asked Dragon even as he began to turn to fly out of immediate view of the town. Strange, the large reptile thought. The town was tucked in the mouth of the river, not on the ocean. Why had the Merchant chosen that town opposed to the others?

"That ship, that is _La Belle Dame._ She rarely leaves port, she belongs to the family we will be visiting. Their business is within Frankia, and they rarely sail to England, but when they do they sail with her."

"There is not much forest," Jane volunteered, a little shaken by the sudden energy in Gunther's voice. "We might have to land a ways away."

"Land near the Montivilliers Abbey, it is not a long walk, and there are not many farms near there. Dragon, you will have to fend for yourself."

"I can do that, but where am I flying?" asked the dragon. Gunther sighed almost as if reprimanding himself and said,

"Fly east, it will be the first thing outside of town. You will see it."

"Have you ever been to this abbey?" asked Jane after a moment.

"Montivilliers? No, but I have wandered out here with Louis and Eldesendlis a few times. You will meet them."

"And who else will I be meeting?"

Gunther sighed again. "I forgot to tell you their names, did I not?"

"You did." Dragon laughed and Gunther snapped,

"When you have to manage everything your father left you after his death, then you can laugh at me for forgetting a detail." His voice was softer when he addressed Jane, however, saying, "We will be going to the family le Lombart. The father of the family is my fath…well mine, now. He is my business associate. His name is Charles le Lombart. His wife is named Colète, and they have two children, Louis and Eldesendlis. They have another daughter, but she is now married. Eldesendlis is…she must be twelve by now, and Louis is my age."

"Lucky."

"Hardly. It is too much a looking glass at times. I always hated myself for how I treated you when I saw him talking to Sédillon, rest her soul."

"Why did you hate yourself?" asked Dragon as he angled downwards, the abbey now in sight.

Gunther was silent a long moment before he eventually said, "Sédillon was much like you, Jane. And Louis liked to tease her for it. He was…not quite cruel, but Louis, he never knew where to stop. He has since matured beyond that but…Sédillon hated him, she told me herself. I…I was always reminded of my treatment of you, when we were younger. And one year, my father and I came and Louis looked heartbroken the second I mentioned Sédillon to him. She died of a fever when I was gone, and Louis blamed himself for it, for he taunted her that for all her strength, she was taken abed like a helpless maiden. That…that was when I made an effort to try to be kinder."

"Was that when you bought me the crucifix?" asked Jane softly.

"Best land a ways away from the abbey, Dragon. If anyone would call a holy war, it would be the nuns, and then we would be stranded in Frankia." Gunther was silent until Dragon landed. When he climbed off after Jane and Dragon fell over with a thump and a sigh, he simply went and collected his pack and said, "Expect to meet us here in four or five days."

"Be safe, Greenlips," said Jane, embracing Dragon best she could.

"When am I not?" countered Dragon. But he was fond if tired, and said, "I will not leave you stranded here, Jane, I promise."

"You had better not." But she let go and took her pack. They had agreed before leaving that it would be best if she wore one of her few dresses when she met the families, but could wear her preferred clothes soon after. And so she reached in and pulled out one of the dresses her father had gotten loaned from some of the court ladies or wives of the knights, the simplest ones that they had no qualms in ridding themselves of for the two months she would be gone, and pulled it on over her habitual tunic and breeches, the chainmail skirt that Smithy had made her a comforting weight underneath. With another goodbye, she followed Gunther as he began to walk west, towards the abbey and beyond.

* * *

It was a long walk, but with Dragon's warning of sometimes having to land days outside of the cities, Jane was grateful that Gunther had said that he had wandered out this far in the course of a day before.

But as they walked, she kept thinking about the story of that girl, Sédillon. Gunther had told her that a boy he knew had teased a girl until it became habit, until he teased her on her deathbed and mourned her heartily because of it. He had told her that it was like looking into a looking glass at times. Had he thought of Sédillon and wondered what would happen should she die? Had it only been realizing what could happen that he decided to be kind to her and to bring her gifts of goodwill?

Too many questions, not enough answers, but that was infuriatingly normal at times when it came to Gunther Breech. He volunteered nothing about himself half the time, and avoided answering the other half. Each time he told her anything, it was rare and it seemed there was much still hidden from her despite attempts to find out what. And each time she was nearly willing to give up, he would supply some story like that of Sédillon, and Jane would want to find out all that he kept behind his skin, if only because that which slipped out was so intriguing or confusing.

The abbey was behind them now, and now Gunther was looking at her every so often, as if contemplating something. But, as usual, Jane could not fathom what. Eventually he asked, "How much French do you speak?"

"None," she answered. "Outside of '_bonjour'_ that is."

"That will do, I suppose. I can teach you, if you wish." There was something hopeful about his voice and Jane said,

"I would like that." It seemed to be the right thing to say, for she saw his lips turn up into a very small smile for the first time since his father had taken ill. And suddenly the air around them was much more amicable than before, and together they walked until they were passing the homes of farmers, passing into the village proper soon after the fourth house with a yard full of chickens clucking philosophy at each other.

Jane was…intimidated, to say the least, by how quickly she was thrown out of her depth by the French being spoken around her and how fast they spoke. It was no faster than English, she supposed, but the lack of consonants that she could hear made it impossible to tell where each word ended and the next began.

Gunther, however, had never looked more comfortable. He stood with a certain air about him, a feeling of certainty and confidence, something she had not seen in him before. He led her ahead now, towards a fine home that was not so intimidating as Gunther's own home. But, Jane supposed, it could just be that she did not know the family and the emotions that went along with them as she did Kippernium's merchant class family.

"They speak a little English," said Gunther as they avoided a vicious dog fight a housewife was breaking up by throwing pepper into their noses. "But they will mainly speak French."

"Well if you teach me some I will not be entirely lost, will I?" he looked content at that, and led her to the door of the house of the le Lombart family. Knocking at the door, they waited until an aging man opened it, looking down at them a moment before saying,

"_Je peux vous aider?_" It was that very moment that Jane was unbelievably grateful for Gunther.

"_Oui, monsieur. Nous cherchons la famillie le Lombart. Elle est ici?_" he responded, not missing a beat. The ease to which he slipped into this other language was almost frightening. He had been speaking English with her just seconds before and now he was speaking as if he had only spoken French his whole life. She should have expected it, he did say he was fluent, after all.

"_Oui. Vous appelez…?"_

"_Je m'appelle Gunther Breech, et elle s'appelle Jane Turnkey._"

"_Monsieur Breech! Bienvenue!_" and they were welcomed inside, and led to a room where they were told to wait. There was a chair there, and Gunther gestured her towards it.

"Chivalrous," she said, taking the seat.

"Contrary to popular belief I do have a sense of it," he replied, before growing very serious. He looked at her contemplatively a while before saying, "You do understand that none of these families know who my father _really_ was, yes?"

"I assumed so. As soon as you said your name was Breech that servant seemed to be a lot more welcoming."

"My family is actually somewhat of a credible name here in Frankia. Shocking, I know." Folding his arms, he looked away from her, almost ashamed as he spoke. "The children of these families, they are my friends. They were my only friends for a very long time. Now I have you, but I would not lose them if possible. So…I am asking you, Jane, as my friend, to _please_ not tell them everything my father did. _Please_ let me keep them. It is a selfish request and I know it. But still I would ask it of you."

Jane paused, looking at him critically before saying, "You need not worry. I do not speak French."

"When we get to Italy they will speak Latin and I know that you speak Latin. Giovanni and Lucrezia in Venice and Giovanni's wife Irene, Augustus and Isabella in Milan, Faustus in Rome, please."

"You have my word. I would not cost your friends. Lord knows you need more, given how they acted back home."

"The funeral?"

"I wish they would have not. For your sake."

He simply shrugged, the broad plane of his shoulders rising and falling. "It would not have mattered, I left anyway."

"Why did you leave?" He looked at her, his eyes searching her for something before opening his mouth. Moments before he spoke, however, the door opened and he turned to greet a tall man with silver hair and a welcoming smile.

"Gunther!" the man greeted, Gunther going to the man, greeting him with a handshake, the man's hand clapping onto his shoulder. After a business of Gunther acting translator and explaining that no, Jane was just accompanying him as a friend, they were _not_ married and so on, Jane simply sat back and let them talk. Whatever they were saying was lost on her, until she heard a very final word.

"Mort." Just the way Gunther said it, with great hesitation and a little too much sadness and hopelessness, it could not be anything but announcing that Magnus was cold and rotting in his grave.

* * *

"My father is…dead," Gunther said. It was the first time he had said it in so many words, and it caused tears he swore to never shed to come to his eyes.

"Dead? Christ be with us all. How did it happen?" asked Charles, looking both horribly sad and curious at the same time.

"He got sick. I-We thought he was getting better, but then…" he swallowed, refusing to cry in front of him. Charles le Lombart was a good man, a very kind one too, but damn him he was not going to cry for his father, no matter what Peter had said about grieving.

"God rest his soul. And you, Gunther? How are you?"

"Time will pass and I will be fine."

"And now?"

"How is Coléte?" Charles sighed, but he allowed the obvious change of topic.

"She is fine, and so are Louis and Eldesendlis. Your friend reminds me of Sédillon."

"Jane is not about to take fever and die."

"I never implied that she would. Come, we will be dining soon and you must want to rest before that happens. Joan will stay in Yfame's old room. Will you be able to sleep in the same room as my son?"

"Louis and I have never fought in the past." Charles gave him a sad smile, but did not press and for that Gunther was grateful. Turning, Gunther saw Jane watching them, interested but obviously lost. She was smart though, and she probably caught the gist of what was happening. "We are being allowed to rest before supper."

"Generous," she replied, and stood, following where Charles led them, up the stairs to the bedchambers of the family.

"You will be staying in Yfame's room," Gunther explained. "I will be staying with Louis." Jane simply nodded, listening to the faint sound of a girl singing.

* * *

Soon she was settled in a fine room, but bare of anything that made it look lived in. But she did remember Gunther telling her that the family le Lombart had a daughter who was married and that she would be staying in Yfame's room. Perhaps Yfame was that daughter. The bed was comfortable, but despite her dozing on Dragon, she was no longer tired.

Gunther's offer to teach her French was suddenly increasingly appealing, with the language of vowels and soft noises losing her entirely, leaving her only with tone of voice to discern what was happening. She figured that Gunther had told Charles le Lombart what had happened to Magnus, but it still was a great shock for her to be lost, to have no idea what was being said, to rely on someone to tell her what was happening around her.

There was a knock at the door, and she went to answer it, seeing Gunther there. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"I am very confused. Why do you not come in?"

"Jane, I cannot go into your room."

"Then what? We stand on this threshold?" Jane almost winced at how poetic it was. It belonged in one of Jester's ballads, not conversation. But Gunther did not seem to notice. Instead he merely shrugged and said,

"Unless you want to go downstairs and deal with the entirety of the family."

"I thought you liked them."

"I do, I honestly do. But I do not think I have the energy needed to deal with them at the moment."

"Unfortunate, as I would love to meet them and you must be translator." He regarded her a moment before sighing and stepping back.

"After you, then." They made their way downstairs, where they found a woman and a girl sitting together, working on tapestry together, where a young man was sitting and listening to Charles reading scripture. The Latin was familiar, and Jane took comfort in that. The stories were familiar to her, and in this land where language blurred, it was nice to hear.

"_Bonsoir!_" called the youth suddenly, looking to where they stood.

"_Bonsoir, Louis,_" Gunther replied with a tired smile. Louis bounded forward, and the two youths kissed each other's cheeks in greeting, but when he turned to Jane, he simply bowed.

"_Comment vous vous appellez?_" he asked when he straightened.

"_Louis, elle est Jane. _Jane, this is Louis le Lombart."

"_Enchanté._" Jane simply smiled politely when the woman presumably scolded him and nodded towards her, speaking swiftly in French.

"_Elle ne parle pas français,_" Gunther said quietly, and the woman smiled again.

"I will speak English," she said, her accent strong but the words understandable. Jane was extremely grateful. "You are Joan, yes? I am called Coléte le Lombart, Charles is my husband. We are happy to have you here." And just like that, Jane was welcomed among them, even as Louis coaxed a small smile from Gunther, as Eldesendlis asked questions of her that Coléte translated best she could that were too pointed for Gunther to have done anything but tell stories of her.

Eventually they were informed that dinner was ready, or so Coléte told her, and once they made their way to the dining hall, it was almost a little frightening how swiftly the mood had moved from a family sitting together to something entirely different. It was almost the living version of the feeling she got from Gunther's home. They became very formal, and the meal was as fine as some she had in the Castle Keep, before Jane had taken to eating at the table in the garden with her friends.

It was another snatch of home and she could appreciate that, even if she had never been overly fond of that particular brand of food. The conversation was polite, and with Charles expressing his sympathy that he had never learned English and that Coléte had taught Gunther French at first, Jane was given quite the window into the past.

"He was smart boy," Coléte was saying as the youth in question was engaged by answering the slew of questions Eldesendlis had tossed on him. "Always wanted to know more."

"So you taught him French?" she asked.

"Magnus knew enough for trade, but Gunther is curious still. Wanted to learn, and learned quick. Louis helped."

"Louis helped teach?"

"Louis did the opposite," said Gunther, turning towards them. "He spoke quickly and expected me to keep up."

"And you managed fine, I think." His lips twitched up into a smile for a moment in response.

* * *

When dinner was done, Gunther and Jane excused themselves to sleep after their journey, Jane in Yfame's room, and Gunther in Louis', now with a pallet set up. He would take that, he was used to it and Louis would never let him take the bed. They had been friends long enough, he knew his humor. Falling down onto the pallet, he removed his boots and slept.

At some point he was shaken awake and he looked to see Louis there. "What do you want?" asked Gunther, looking up at him with bleary eyes.

"Get onto the bed, Gunther," said Louis. "You always slept on the ground when you stayed here with your father. Take the bed."

"I am fine."

"No you are not. Sleep on a bed in my home for once."

"You will hate sleeping on the ground."

"But I know for fact that you hate it too. On the bed. Tomorrow we will take Joan around."

"Her name is Jane," said Gunther even as he stood and went to the bed, laying on the mercifully lovely bed.

"That is too hard. Her name is Joan while she is here."

"She will not appreciate that."

"I do not doubt it. Go to sleep."

Gunther did so, sleeping until sunlight woke him, rolling over to avoid it, but unable to sleep any longer. Louis was still asleep on the pallet on the ground, snoring softly as was his habit. But it was morning, and he wanted to show Jane the city of Harfleur, he wanted to ignore dealing with the aftermath of his father's death just one more day. Charles was a good man, he would understand.

He shook Louis awake, though the other youth was against opening his eyes as long as possible. Gunther could understand that, but he was not going to let Louis sleep the day away. "I am awake!" he finally groaned, sitting up and batting away Gunther's hand shaking his shoulder.

"Good. Would you want to come around Harfleur with Jane and myself?"

"Papa wants me to work on record keeping. Visit the farms that pay us rent while he talks to you about what will happen now that your father is gone."

"So you will be coming?"

"Of course." The two youths got dressed, and as they headed down to meet the family for breakfast and hopefully flee the home before anything could be done to keep them in, Louis asked, "By the way, how do you manage _your_ farms?"

"I do not manage the farms."

"You know what I mean."

"I leave them alone, mostly. I lowered their rent by half and since then they have liked me a hell of a lot more than my father."

"Gunther, _everyone_ likes you a hell of a lot more than your father. Except maybe Papa." Gunther snorted, and together they made their way to where Eldesendlis and Coléte were eating porridge with Jane. "Good morning, mother. Where is Papa?"

"He is still abed," she answered. "Stayed up to all hours of the night, thinking and planning about what to do about trade with you, Gunther. So if you want to go about the town, you should eat quickly and leave before he wakes."

* * *

One rushed breakfast later, Jane found herself being dragged out of the home by Louis, who told her in very broken English (honestly it was almost adorable)that they needed to leave the house as soon as possible to avoid having to visit farmers and doing record keeping nonsense that no one wanted to do but his father. And now Gunther was translating, as Louis had given up on English after Jane had giggled when he called her Joan.

"You may be called Joan for most of the time we are here," warned Gunther as they walked beside Louis, who insisted on taking her to visit the girl that his mother was trying to match him with.

"That is the way they would say my name here, is it not?" she asked.

"No has had much trouble with my name or my father's. Louis declared your name was too difficult last night when he made me take the bed."

"He made you take the bed?"

"I would rather not go into the reasons behind that right now, so just accept that that is what happened and if he complains about a cramp from sleeping on the floor it was his own choice." Jane laughed aloud, dodging around a woman carrying two dead chickens.

"_Qu'est-ce que tu dit à lui?_" asked Louis, looking over, eyebrows raised.

"_Rien, Louis_," answered Gunther. Louis looked at them a moment longer before starting to go on and on about the girl again. "He says that she is kind and she will love you, Jane, but now he is saying that she is insufferable and he is in no way content with marrying her. Apparently that was a joke and he likes her."

When they finally did meet her, a girl named Jehannette, she was a perfectly amiable girl who took an immediate liking to Jane and apologized again and again when she could not speak English any better than Louis could. Gunther, she noticed with a smile, was spread thin translating for the two talkative Frankians, and sometimes spoke to them in English and her in French, often mixing the two languages within the sentence.

"Have you ever met Jehannette?" asked Jane.

"_Oui,_" replied Gunther. "_Je…_I apologize. I have known her, though most of our—_my_ trade is with the le Lombart family, we—_I_ do trade with her family, the family le Picart."

"_Gunther, dites-lui elle devrait manger avec nous pour dîner cet soir,_" said Jehannette.

"Jehannette wants you to eat dinner with her family tonight. _C'est vrai? Avec ta familie?_"

"_Oui._"

"Yes with her family."

"I…would the family le Lombart not be expecting me?" asked Jane.

"No, not really. Not if you were invited by the family le Picart."

"Oh. Well then, of course."

"_Elle vas manger avec vous._" Jehannette looked delighted, and suddenly stood, saying that she needed to take them to one of the farms her family managed. When Gunther translated, Jane agreed. Louis' agreement was more hearty and excited and off they went with a cheerful "_Alors, on y vas?_"

"Why are we going to a farm?" asked Jane as they walked through the market, which was busier than Kippernium's own, even though it was seriously improving.

"Because Jehannette wants to take you. She has dragged Louis and myself there many a time."

"But why?"

"The farmer's wife, really." Jane gave him a long look and he explained. "She is named Noël, and she has been very generous and very kind to all of us, Jehannette and her sisters and brothers, Louis, Yfame, and Eldesendlis, and myself. We are all aware that we are very privileged in life, and she has been kind to us no matter what. It is because of her that I have no taste for anything that is eaten at the castle."

"Really?"

"We have gone to see her ever since I was small. Just wait."

"_Arrête de traîner!_" called Louis, and Gunther hurried them along, catching up with the other two as they left the buildings behind them, starting to wander into the fields. It was a long walk, and Jane found herself walking along arm in arm with Jehannette. The girl, with golden hair and eyes dark as freshly tilled earth, was beautiful in a way Jane never could be, even with the scars of a childhood illness marking her face. She was far more feminine than Jane, but there was a sparkle in her eye that reminded her of the same sparkle in Jester's eyes.

"You," she said, the accent so strong she could barely discern the words, "Kipper…Kipp…"

"I come from Kippernium," she said.

"Yes. Name…Gunther! _Comment dit-on difficile?_"

"Difficult," he answered from where he was talking with Louis. Jane looked at him, realizing that he was in his element here, wandering the countryside with his friends, untouched by the biases of Kippernium.

"Name difficult."

"It is," agreed Jane. She liked Jehannette, was almost ready to call her something approaching a friend, but then there was that language barrier. Perhaps if Gunther taught her, they could come visit again before they returned home, so she could speak to Jehannette with that same ease that Gunther did.

"_C'est la!_" called Louis, before running ahead towards the small home ahead. Jehannette laughed and gathered her skirts in one hand, pulling Jane along with the other, Gunther running alongside.

* * *

Noël was a simple woman. She had three sons who helped their father, her husband, Vendredi, and she had three daughters who helped her. And then she had her "children" in town. Louis and Eldesendlis le Lombart and Jehannette le Picart and her siblings on their odd visits. And then her "son" Gunther, who visited once in a long while, but no less dear to her than her other "children."

And now, as she fed the chickens with her youngest daughter Urie, she could hear the familiar voices of her "children." Urie too looked excited, and with a glance at her mother, ran out to meet them on the road. Sure enough, there was Jehannette le Picart with Louis le Lombart, and—what a lovely surprise!—Gunther Breech. Coming with them was a girl Noël had never seen, with red hair and excitement at being led somewhere she did not know.

"Noël!" greeted Jehannette as Urie embraced Louis and then Gunther with a delighted squeak.

"Jehannette!" she laughed, accepting the hug as it came. The girl was dear to her, and each time she visited she was glad. "Louis, welcome! And Gunther!"

"Hello, Noël," he said in response, coming to kiss her cheeks in greeting once Urie let him go. Noël had told Urie many a time that an English boy would wed an English girl, but he remained the object of her affections nonetheless.

"You have been away a long time, Gunther! Is your father in town?" But immediately after she said that, his face dropped to darkness and solemnity, before he said in a voice carved from stone,

"My father died three months ago. That is why I am here, to make certain that the trade relationships of our family do not vanish."

"You darling child." And she embraced him, not accepting any of his complaints to be let go, halfhearted as they were. "Are you fleeing his grave?" she whispered, feeling him still in her arms.

Noël was simple, but she was wise. She knew her children, both of her body and of her heart. Still, she let him go, patting his cheek with a smile. And then her eyes fell upon the girl who looked about her a little confusedly and very lost. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Noël, this is Jane Turnkey. She is from Kippernium. Before you ask, we are not married nor betrothed in any way."

"Hello Jane. My name is Noël, and it is lovely to meet you." Jane just stared at her.

"Joan does not speak French," said Louis. "But Gunther has been translating."

And with Gunther helping them all communicate, they went to the home together, where Vendredi sat with their sons. Despite the age difference between them, all of their children of body and heart got along well together, and Gunther's relatively rare appearances in their home made their welcome of him all the more fond. Jane too was welcomed, though Gunther did not look pleased with his only purpose being regulated to translator.

Still it was as happy a meeting as ever, with Jane's snorting laugh adding to the family melody of laughter. Noël was confident that if Jane ever returned to Harfleur, she would be happily welcomed into her home. Urie was staying delightedly by her, and it was almost a joy that she was paying attention to this new girl than spending the whole time staring at Gunther.

Lunch was eaten and the children from town headed home soon afterwards, with glowing praise of the food left by all, even Jane. "They are good children," said Vendredi as the children made their away, back home. "But I cannot mourn for Gunther's father."

"It is not right to be glad," she agreed. "And yet I cannot help but to be. He poisoned that boy and it will be healthy for him to be rid of him." She sighed. "Spinning needs to be done." And quick as that she was back to work.

* * *

"You were not lying," said Jane as she walked with Gunther back towards Harfleur. "I understand why you would dislike court food now." He smiled, and though it was small it was there. Jane was glad for that. "And now where are we going?"

"Jehannette will be going home and likely be scolded for leaving without telling anyone where she was going and then she will get out of it as soon as she tells her parents that you will coming to dinner. Louis and I will go talk to Charles about trade and you will likely be coerced into playing with Eldesendlis," said Gunther.

"You do not sound excited about that."

"I would rather not face all this right now. But if wishes were horses—"

"Beggars would ride. Gunther, you never fail to impress me." That seemed to surprise him, and she just smiled at him before hurrying up towards where Jehannette and Louis were walking together. There was a golden bubble of happiness in Gunther's chest at her words though, and that alone would be enough to strengthen him through talking to Charles.

* * *

**A/N: **I can't guarantee the accuracy of the French, as I am only in my second year of French. However, I did use all my resources and ran it through a grammar and spell check program to be as accurate as I could be. Ignoring the fact that they would not be speaking modern French anyway.

All the names are taken directly from the 1292 census of Paris, and yes, Vendredi is "Friday". I don't pretend to understand why someone was named Friday, but there you have it.

Montviilliers is a small town nearby Harfleur, and in this time it was an abbey. It was sacked by the Vikings in 833 or 850 (sources not clear), however. But for now it's standing. What's interesting is that it's referred to as an abbey, which is usually monks, but instead it was really a cloister of nuns. Okay it's not that interesting but it is to me.

Far less notes than in the past chapters really. We're getting to the point where everything is explained, at least while we're in Harfleur. Soon as we get to Paris we will have far more information.


End file.
